


Eleven O'Clock on a Friday Night

by madeofbees



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Cliche, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fine Wine, Firefly References, Firefly marathons, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Reid is a surprisingly good cook, Reid teaches Rossi about Firefly, Romance, Rossi enjoys Reid's bedhead, Rossi teaches Reid about wine, Sleepovers, Weekly Firefly marathons, probably, reid doesn't shut up, rossi has a giant ego, silliness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:46:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2194020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeofbees/pseuds/madeofbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rossi interrupts a Firefly marathon and Reid gets locked out of his own apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So we got a course set?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SuOliveira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuOliveira/gifts).



> _And try to see past what she is, and on to what she can be._

Rossi stood at Reid’s door, case file in one hand, contemplating knocking again. Reid was listening to something loudly, and his knock seemed to have fallen in the middle of a fight, and he thought it entirely possible that Reid hadn’t heard. Or was too absorbed in whatever he was watching to remember he had buzzed Rossi in a minute or two ago and needed to answer the door at all. But, despite an alarm system of some sort blaring, a moment later Reid’s apartment fell into silence, and the door opened.

Relative silence. Rossi was quite certain he could hear the sounds of sex in the background.

Reid watching a porno didn’t fit in the realm of possibility.

“Yes, can I help you?” Reid asked after a moment.

Rossi was still listening to whatever was in the background. Chinese and spaceships. If Reid _was_ going to watch porn, he figured that was about par, but porn was still far too pedestrian for Reid.

“Rossi?” Reid said, somewhere between confused and irritated. “I’m a little busy at the moment, so if you wouldn’t mind—”

“What the hell is a reg couple?” Rossi interrupted, craning to look over Reid’s shoulder. A stupid attempt given their height differences, but it was extremely important to know what Reid chose to watch by himself at eleven o’clock on a Friday night.

“It don’t serve much of a purpose,” Reid said. He flushed and immediately corrected himself at Rossi’s incredulous stare. “Doesn’t. It doesn’t serve much of a—it doesn’t do anything. Gets in the way. Well, not in the way exactly, but superfluous, and it’s better to plug the g-line straight into the port-pin-lock.”

The sounds of an engine whirring into life floated out of Reid’s apartment.

“Right,” Rossi said slowly. It was only then that he noticed Reid’s hat, which defied explanation, and that instead of something out of his seemingly endless sweater vest collection, he was wearing an old, ratty tee-shirt emblazoned with a Chinese character. There was more talk of spaceships in the background, and it clicked. “This is one of your science fiction movies, isn’t it?”

Reid frowned at him. “TV show, actually, and it’s far more than science fiction. Firefly is usually characterized as a space western, though—”

“Right,” Rossi repeated, again cutting him off. “I have the file. Apparently your notes were inadequate.”

Reid’s frown deepened, and he leaned against the doorway as flipped through the paperwork. In the background the same voices were talking about an engine part, which Rossi ignored in favor of the sight before him. Reid was all long lines, graceful only because he wasn’t trying, looking ridiculous in a striped hat with a giant pompom and earflaps, oversized tee, and the same tight-fitting black slacks from work that day. Ridiculous was a kind word, but the way the slacks hugged his ass made up for it.

“Inadequate?” he said suddenly, jarring Rossi out of his thoughts. “I wrote six pages alone on the cipher. How is that inadequate?”

“I don’t think length was the problem,” he replied, eyebrow raised in amusement. “Comprehensibility, perhaps.”

“I was perfectly comprehensible!” Reid exclaimed, suddenly directly next to Rossi, shoving the file at him, poking it hard enough to crinkle the paper. “Look, right there I specifically state—”

“Hey, this is Aaron’s decision, not mine,” Rossi said, pushing the file—and Reid, who was too Reid-like to have so close—away from himself. “I thought I’d do you a favor and drop it off on my way home so you didn’t have to go back in, but if you’re going to shoot the messenger…”

“I’m not on your way home,” Reid said. “We live in opposite directions from the bureau.”

“I had to get something in the neighborhood,” Rossi replied easily, making sure to maintain eye contact, keep his muscles relaxed, control his heartbeat, anything that would give away the fact that he was lying.

“At eleven at night?” Reid asked. “What’s still open, other than the all-night minimart and the Dunkin Donuts?”

“All kinds of places,” Rossi said, not having any idea of what was in Reid’s neighborhood. “Stop being an ass and accept my generosity.”

Reid huffed indignantly, but threw the file onto the desk next to the door. The alarm was once again blaring, and Reid glanced behind himself at the screen Rossi still couldn’t see. The sound faded away, and Reid looked back at Rossi, no longer indignant, just impatient.

“Anything else?”

“A thank you might be nice,” Rossi replied, though he was fishing. Baiting, more like, because an indignant Reid was an adorable Reid. “Maybe an offer of coffee?”

Reid crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe again. The very picture of _I’m not interested, go away_. “I’m not going to make coffee, it’s eleven o’clock.”

“I thought you never slept,” Rossi teased. It was too easy and too much fun.

And he wouldn’t exactly mind seeing Reid like this a little longer. It wasn’t often Rossi got the privilege of seeing him out of his work clothes.

…that hadn’t come out right, even as a silent thought.

“Okay, let me rephrase: I don’t _want_ to make coffee,” Reid said, starting to cross the line from annoyed to genuinely angry. “Inara and Mal are about to meet for the first time, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Ever heard of pause and rewind, kid?” Rossi asked. He was ready to back down, as long as it didn’t seem like he was retreating. “But fine, if you want to spend your Friday nights by yourself watching a show about flies, then—”

“It’s not about flies!” Reid yelled, moving to block the doorway entirely, one hand on the frame and the other on the edge of the door. Rossi stepped back, hands raised, silently cursing himself. He hadn’t meant to cross the line, he really hadn’t. He hated upsetting Reid, and more than Reid knew. “Firefly is a class of transport ship, and the show follows a class three k-sixty-four Firefly named _Serenity_.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Rossi said, hands still raised in surrender, sort of wishing he had a literal white flag to wave. “Really. Firefly, space western, I’ll check it out. Is it on Netflix?”

Reid’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t tell if you’re placating me or not, but yes, it is.”

“I’m not placating you,” Rossi replied. “Your interests are my interests.”

_“And just so we’re clear, under no circumstances will I be servicing you or anyone who is under your employ.”_

Rossi thought that was an awkward enough line to fill the awkward silence.

“Right,” Reid said. “That’d be Inara and Mal meeting. Thanks for the file. I’ll see you Monday. Have a good weekend.”

“You too,” Rossi replied, feeling slightly better. When Reid was truly angry, he used long words, spoke very quickly, and in very long sentences. Short and choppy words and sentences meant awkward and irritated, but not angry. “See you Monday.”

“Monday,” Reid echoed, turning around and starting to close the door. At the last second he spun back around, still holding onto the door, saying, “Joss Whedon, it’s a Joss Whedon show, you should check out his other works as well, though I don’t think Doctor Horrible is quite up your alley, but yeah. Anything by Joss Whe— _gah!_ ”

Rossi realized what was happening a split second too late. Reid’s hand slipped and he overbalanced, spilling forward into the hallway. What was left of his grip on the doorknob provided enough force to swing the door closed, and Reid’s awkwardness invariably caused him to move faster than the wood, putting him into the hallway and out of the doorframe just in time for the door to slam shut. The solid click of the lock engaging was audible even over the sounds of Reid falling, and Rossi knew that sort of click. Not the sort that could be kicked down. He did, however, manage to grab Reid’s bicep and prevent him from crashing to the floor, keeping him upright long enough to wrap an arm around him and keep him from falling.

“ _Goddammit_!” Reid yelled, immediately extracting himself from Rossi’s arms. “Rossi! What the hell!”

Rossi stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“You locked us out of my apartment!”

“ _I_ did?” Rossi asked in astonishment. “ _You_ were the one who tripped over nothing! I kept you from falling over!”

“You should’ve gotten the door!” Reid exclaimed. “I’m fully capable of picking myself up off the floor, I’m much less capable of lock picking the three bolts that engage whenever the door closes!”

“Three?” Rossi asked, voice rising. “How paranoid are you? And I only heard one!”

“The right amount!” Reid yelled. “I had the door augmented when I moved in, and again after Foyet, and again last year when the crime rate went up three percent, and you can’t hear the other two as an additional security measure, but you can never be too safe except, apparently, when you can!” He spun around to the door and kicked it, hard enough that he winced and backed off as if the door had been the one to hit him.

“Hey, stop.” Rossi grabbed Reid’s shoulder, pulling him away from the door. Reid shook him off again, glaring, rubbing the place on his shoulder that Rossi had touched. It looked like he was trying to get rid of any cooties, and Rossi had to suppress a laugh. Reid probably didn’t even realize he was doing it. “Can’t you just call your landlord and get him to let you in?”

“I could, except my phone is inside,” Reid replied angrily.

Rossi fished his own out of his pocket and held it out. “I assume you know his number?”

“Of course I do,” Reid snapped. “I know every phone number I’ve ever heard. Want me to recite them?”

Again, Rossi stepped back. “Spencer, I—”

Reid took a deep, steadying breath. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I was involved in my show, I don’t want to do paperwork, I wasn’t planning on spending the night squatting in my own hallway, but you’re right. It isn’t your fault.” The corners of his lips twitched up in what was almost a smile for maybe an entire millisecond, and Rossi smiled himself. It was an ingrained reaction, smiling when Reid smiled. He didn’t notice anymore. “But maybe I misunderstood what you meant by inadequate, and so I think I’ll have to go into more detail. Just for Hotch’s sake.”

Rossi grinned. “He should appreciate that.”

“Okay. I’m going to call my landlord, then you can have your phone back, and I’ll finish the episode in my head,” Reid said much more calmly. He walked down the hallway as he dialed, a few yards away, a few yards back, pacing as he held the phone to his ear. More and more time passed, and Rossi saw the muscle in his jaw work as he hung up and immediately called back.

For the first time, it occurred to Rossi that Reid might be locked out all night. No keys, no phone, no money for a hotel, no car to get him to a hotel, not without his keys.

Rossi had keys. He also had a spare bedroom. Several, in fact.

Reid’s landlord answered on the fourth try. After a short but heated conversation, Reid stormed back down the hall and held out Rossi’s phone.

“Mr. Mitchell is apparently _entertaining_ ,” Reid said, spitting out the word with disgust. “And will be busy for the next several hours. He said he’d call when he can _find the time_ , and when I told him I didn’t have access to my cellphone, I was told that was my problem, not his, and he hung up.”

Rossi was practically glowing, and it took all his energy to make sure that didn’t show. “If you want to crash at my place…”

Reid stopped him with a wave of the hand. “Not necessary. I’ve slept in more uncomfortable places than this.” He dropped to the floor—gracefully this time, he moved so gracefully when he wasn’t thinking—and leaned against his door, ear to the wood. “There’s still another minute or two of my episode left.” He closed his eyes and quoted along with the scene. “ _I feel like maybe we can do business_.”

“Then why don’t you and me do some business,” Rossi said, well aware that he was far too Italian to say that. “I’ll call your landlord, set up an appointment for tomorrow, maybe throw in a little incentive so he’s inclined to treat you better next time, and you can stay with me. You may have slept in places less comfortable, but I can guarantee my mattress is better than any floor, and there’s no reason for you to suffer. You can even watch Firefly on my eighty-five inch, LED, ultra HD TV.” Reid was giving him a very strange expression, one Rossi couldn’t identify, and he didn’t like expressions he couldn’t identify. “What?”

“ _Your_ mattress?” Reid asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Rossi huffed, covering up how flustered he was. That really hadn’t been what he’d meant, and now it had been said, at least sort of. He needed recovery time he didn’t have. “Guest room, the mattress in my guest room. Really, Reid?”

“Your words, not mine.” He pressed his ear against the door again. “I should stay here. I don’t like the idea of you bribing my landlord, and if I’m not here when he shows up, I think he’d have a coronary.”

Something very important was about to slip through Rossi’s fingers, and he refused to let it go. Especially when Reid was saying _should_ instead of _am going to_.

“It’s not bribing, it’s an apology,” Rossi said. “For inconveniencing him. And you did say it was my fault.”

“Which you rightly told me was bullshit,” Reid replied. “Go on, enjoy your mattress and your eighty-five inch, LED, ultra HD TV. I’ll be fine.” He looked up at Rossi, and again Rossi couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and again he hated it. “I promise.”

“No,” Rossi said firmly, unthinkingly. “This is one of those times where you’re being an idiot and I get to make the decision.” He grabbed Reid’s biceps again, both this time, and hauled him to his feet. Reid seemed too surprised to protest, or maybe had anticipated it and already decided to go along, Rossi didn’t know. “Come on. We’re going to my place.”

“People aren’t usually so demanding over being selfless,” Reid said as they waited for the elevator. “Usually they’re only this insistent in order to get something that benefits them personally.”

“Well I’m just a selfless guy,” Rossi said, herding Reid into the elevator, though he wasn’t protesting.

“No, that’s not true at all,” Reid replied. “I could list examples, or I could just make a comment about the number of ex-wives you have.”

Rossi shot him a death glance. “Don’t push your luck.”

“But it’s not luck,” Reid said, looking much happier and much more animated now that he had something to focus his intellect on. “I haven’t done anything. Actually, I have, I’ve yelled at you and cursed you and blamed you for things that aren’t your fault, and you’re forcing me into your care.”

“It’s not my _care_ ,” Rossi replied irritably. “I’m doing a favor for a friend because that’s what friends do.”

“You’re not a very forceful friend,” Reid mused as they walked out of the building. “Usually you go to all costs to prevent anyone from the BAU coming to your house. Mansion, excuse me. Remember the cooking lessons?”

Rossi did, vividly.

“I have to if I don’t want the entire bureau thinking they can barge in on my peace and quiet,” he said. “This is a one-time offer due to real estate hardship. Don’t take it to be an extended invitation.”

Of course Rossi would love it to be, but he couldn’t exactly say that.

“Nice car,” Reid said, not needing Rossi to tell him the bright red Z4 tucked between sedans and SUVs was his. “Contrary to popular belief, people driving red cars are not more likely to get pulled over for speeding, although white and silver cars are the safest.”

“I get enough speeding tickets on my own, good to know the color of my car doesn’t add to the number,” Rossi replied, rolling his eyes.

“Did you know that in 1939, BMW bought Brandenburgische Motorenwerke and merged it with its aircraft division, thus officially supporting the Nazis, rather than passively allowing the Germans to take control of their factories in Poland during the invasion? Their history during World War II is actually quite fascinating, and—oh, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Rossi had intended on opening Reid’s door for him regardless of the situation, but if it shut him up too, that was an added benefit.

“They almost didn’t bounce back,” Reid said as soon as Rossi got into his seat. “For almost a decade after the end of the war, they were only permitted to manufacture motorcycles, and then only by Americans. The Allied forces wanted them shut down completely. They started drafting plans for cars again in—”

“Have you ever actually ridden in a BMW before?” Rossi asked, turning the car on. “Listened to one? Felt it move beneath you?”

Reid frowned. “No, but—”

“Listen,” Rossi interrupted. Demanded, really. “Feel. Enjoy yourself.”

“We’re sitting in a car that’s made by a company who openly supported the Nazi regime,” Reid said.

“You’re not listening,” Rossi replied, pulling out of the space, going as fast as he could get away with. “You need to listen.”

“I’ve never understood the concept of listening to cars,” Reid said. “Beyond diagnostics, what does it matter what they sound like? They all sound the same; there are specific sounds generated by all working engines, whether one is louder than another is irrelevant, beyond bolstering the ego of the man—or woman—driving the car.”

Rossi groaned. “Then shut up and let my ego be bolstered.”

“All you had to do was ask logically.”

After that, all that could be heard was the purr of the Z4, and for that Rossi was supremely grateful.


	2. You're welcome on my boat.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Reid and Rossi watch Firefly together, and Reid makes breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _determined_ to make progress on finishing my stories. Determined, I say! It also happens to be that I have a good chunk of the next chapter already written, so maybe it won't even take me months to publish!

Reid didn’t stay quiet for long. When Rossi turned the heat on, Reid informed him that the first mechanism used to heat cars was invented in 1917, and from there they went to air conditioners (1902) to central heating (ancient Rome, apparently, though the modern heating system was born in 1793) to boilers (1880), and after that Rossi didn’t know. He let himself be lulled into the sound of Reid’s voice, higher and faster when he found something particularly interesting, slowing between subjects, stuttering slightly when too many words tried to come out at once. Wild gesturing accompanied his lecture, and Rossi nearly ran a red watching this. After that he kept his eyes to himself.

“Oh, we’re here,” Reid said, suddenly interrupting himself and the history of mobile homes.

Rossi let a carefully measured amount of amusement creep onto his face. “We’ve been parked for almost a full minute.”

“Oh.” Reid frowned slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Rossi replied and got out of his car before Reid could say—

“Everyone always interrupts me.”

Rossi sighed quietly, covered by the beep as he locked his car. “It was interesting. We work a lot of cases involving mobile homes, it’s good to know what level of maintenance is required to keep a standard RV running.”

Rossi could feel Reid’s eyes on him as they walked up the pathway to his front door.

“Minimal,” Reid finally said. “Though the older the trailer, the more car savvy the owner would have to be.”

“Right,” Rossi replied, unlocking the door and letting them in. “Shoes off, please, and I can take your—no coat, right.”

Reid quirked a smile at him as he toed off his dress shoes, and it was with practiced ease that Rossi ignored the pleasant twisting of his stomach. Any smile from Reid was good; playful was just a little better.

“No coat,” Reid confirmed. “Or a change of clothes. Nothing to sleep in, either, unless you keep a go bag in my size lying around.”

There was nothing in his arsenal to prepare him for that, no _practiced ease_ to fall back on. It didn’t take more than a quarter of a second to respond, but amongst profilers, it might as well have been an hour.

“Sorry kid, I got nothing. Not all of us are beanpoles.” Rossi tucked their shoes away in the closet, carefully putting his back in the empty spot on the rack and Reid’s neatly at the bottom, ironically next to his own go bag.

Reid’s shoes looked right there, like they belonged, and Rossi quickly closed the door and turned back to face Reid.

“So, have you eaten?” Rossi asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. There was no practice for having Reid over at all, in fact; the only time had been when the whole BAU came over, and then there was a prescribed series of events: cooking, teaching, eating, drinking, sending everybody home, and then a long hot shower and bed.

Just Reid?

Just Reid overnight?

Just Reid overnight without a go bag?

Rossi didn’t know, and so he offered food, like all good Italians.

“Yeah, I had takeout about an hour ago,” Reid said. Rossi would have expected him to be looking around but no, the younger man’s gaze was fixed solely on him.

“Dessert?” Rossi tried, because he honestly couldn’t think of anything else, or anything at all, not with Reid looking at him like that, even if _like that_ meant nothing more than having his focus, because being the center of Spencer Reid’s focus was not something that made thinking come naturally.

Reid half-smiled again. “I’m good, thanks. I don’t want to be a bother; if you could direct me to the guest room, I’ll get out of your way.”

“There’s no way to get in the way of,” Rossi said, resolutely not looking away despite Reid’s amused look.

_Real words. Real sentences. C’mon Dave, you can do this._

“I believe I offered my television?”

“You did, and while Ariel would be a good episode to watch on such a large screen—there’s always more details to see, last time I only saw eight out of the ten medications they’re smuggling—I’ll really be fine on my own. I can rewrite the report for Hotch and get to sleep early.”

“You don’t have the—never mind.” Reid didn’t have the case file but it didn’t matter because he no doubt had it memorized. Rossi tried again. “I told you I’d check it out. Your show. Why not now? I’ll watch the episode with you.”

Reid laughed. “No. Starting with Ariel would be—” He broke off into laughter again, and if it wasn’t so adorable, Rossi would have been seriously annoyed. “If you want to watch Firefly, you start from the beginning, or with something harmless, like Shindig or Train Job. You’re not starting with Ariel. Why do you want to spend time with me? I could always watch Serenity again—the pilot, not the movie—so if you really wanted to, I suppose.”

Like every other time Reid asked a personal question or made a personal statement, the question was thrown in where it could be missed, and Rossi almost did. Trying to follow the logic of a show he had never seen while not looking like an idiot was hard enough; this was just unfair.

“You’re a guest in my home, I’m not going to lock you away in a closet until your landlord calls,” Rossi replied evenly. “If you won’t let me feed you, the least I can do is make you comfortable.”

“I can be comfortable anywhere,” Reid said again. “Are you actually interested in Firefly?”

“Sure, why not,” Rossi replied, leading Reid to the den. “It’s Friday night, what else would I do but watch science fiction all night?”

“If you’re rude about it, I’ll spoil the ending for you,” Reid said, though Rossi was pretty sure he knew they were joking. “I’ll tell you what Miranda is.”

“That means nothing to me,” Rossi said, turning the TV on and navigating through Netflix to the show. “Wine, I forgot wine. Do you want any?”

“Ah, sure, thanks.” Reid flopped onto the couch, truly making himself comfortable, causing Rossi to linger in the doorway and wonder exactly what he’d have to do to see that more often. “It means everything.”

“The wine?” Rossi asked, forcing himself to focus on the conversation. “It’s not _that_ good.”

Reid laughed again. Reid, laughing, sprawled on his couch. If Rossi didn’t know better, he might think his little infatuation was something more like love.

“Miranda,” he said, leaning his head back so he could look at Rossi. “If you knew what I was threatening to tell you, you’d probably kill me.”

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t, because that’s a very expensive couch that I’m not interested in replacing,” Rossi said. “I’m going to get the wine. I’ll be right back.”

When Rossi returned, Reid was all but bouncing in his seat.

“I love Serenity,” Reid said at Rossi’d expression. “So many shows start off slow and take a few episodes, if not seasons, to really get going. Firefly just jumps right in; they don’t waste any time, not that they had time to waste, not that they _knew_ they didn’t have time to waste. What kind of wine is that?”

It took Rossi a moment to answer, to follow Reid’s thought to the end. “A 2008 Littorai Thieriot Vineyard Chardonnay,” Rossi replied. “It’s very rare, very hard to get, and very good, as long as you like citrus.”

“I do,” Reid said, taking the glass and having a small sip. “Mm, thank you. I do like it.”

“You sound surprised,” Rossi said, savoring the smell for a moment before tasting. “Is Chardonnay not to your liking?”

Reid shrugged, looking embarrassed for the first time that night. “I don’t know much about wine.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Rossi mused with a smile. “You teach me Firefly, I’ll teach you wine.”

“Fair enough.” Reid eyed the remotes. “Are you ready?”

“So eager,” Rossi teased. But he pressed play, and they fell into silence as the show started.

 

—

 

The ending took Rossi by surprise, and he blurted out: “Hey, I was watching that!” before he remembered he had pride.

Reid laughed. “It’s a good show, I told you. We could watch the next episode, but there are only thirteen—did I say that already? I can never remember, it’s the number one complaint in the Firefly fandom, I hear it so often—and it’s better to savor them. One a week is optimal, of course, since that’s how they aired—although actually, they aired out of order, and Fox is known for being a horrible station for a long list of reasons, so maybe that’s not the best reason, but it is how television is intended to be viewed, but if you were following that logic, you’d have to wait six years to watch Serenity, and I certainly don’t recommend that.”

There were a few moments of silence while Rossi figured out how to respond.

“So I should wait until next Friday to watch the second episode?”

“Ideally,” Reid said. He yawned, and stretched. Rossi watched, unable to look away. “I think I’m going to sleep, I’ve been up for forty-two hours and I’m getting tired.”

Rossi stared at him. “Why?”

Reid frowned. “Why am I tired? I’d think it obvious.”

Rossi huffed. “Why didn’t you sleep last night?”

Reid shrugged. “I wasn’t tired. I don’t need a lot of sleep, and I’d rather read or, in this case, watch Firefly. Where’s the guest room?”

“Down the hall on the right,” Rossi said, standing. “I’ll walk you.”

Reid raised an eyebrow, though he followed him out of the room. “Walking me to my door?”

Rossi flushed before forcing his expression neutral. “Showing you where your room is. There’s a bathroom off the bedroom, and there are fresh towels waiting. Extra blankets are in the closet, and you saw the kitchen. Make yourself at home.”

Reid gave him a half smile. “Don’t you mean make yourself at mansion?”

The blush came back. “Shut up.” He opened the door to the guest room, and hovered, suddenly unsure of what to do. More unsure, really. “Is there anything else you need?”

Reid’s smile widened. “Nope, it all sounds great. Thanks again, even if it is your fault I’m here.”

“Let it go,” Rossi faux-pleaded. “Sleep, you need it.”

Reid started to go into the room, then paused. “Really, Dave. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” Rossi said, the words coming out automatically, decades of training keeping him functional. _Dave_. He liked Dave. “See you in the morning.”

“Sleep well,” Reid said, and disappeared inside, closing the door behind himself.

Rossi took a moment to collect himself before heading to bed.

It was a while before he fell asleep.

 

—

 

Reid was already awake and in the kitchen when Rossi stumbled down, half asleep and in serious need of coffee. He stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, staring at the scene before him: Reid, making an omelet, paper spread out on the counter next to the stove, dressed in the same clothes as yesterday except now they were wrinkled from sleep, hair standing up in more directions than Rossi could count.

 _Why is this not my life_ , Rossi thought.

“Good morning,” Reid said, flipping the omelette and turning the page at the same time. “Your omelette is on the table. I put in extra cheese, I assume your Italian background will appreciate it. Vegetables as well, of course. It should still be warm; I calculated the average number of hours slept in a night, factored in your age, gender, weight, how often I’ve seen you nap and for how long, and how late we stayed up last night, and it seems my margin of error was only off by two minutes and three seconds. Eat, before it gets cold.”

It took Rossi a few seconds to get moving; his sleep-addled brain combined with seeing Reid like this didn’t want to process information nearly as quickly as Reid gave it.

“Coffee?” he asked, sitting down before remembering that he should probably make it himself. Reid had cooked him breakfast for christ’s sake, the least he could do was turn on the coffee maker.

“Almost done,” Reid replied. “Your machine is very counterintuitive and I had to download the manual for it before figuring out how to make it work. There’s orange juice on the table.”

There was, along with a particularly cheese omelette. Rossi took a hesitant bite, not having experienced Reid’s cooking before. His eyes widened. “This is amazing.”

“Cooking is just math,” Reid said. “Chemical changes caused by—”

“I don’t need an explanation, Reid,” Rossi interrupted. “Just take the compliment, would you?”

“Sorry,” Reid replied mildly, sitting across from him, his own omelette in one hand and the coffee carafe in the other. “It’s the least I can do, really. Thanks for letting me stay.”

“I did get you locked out,” Rossi said around a bite of omelette. “I mean, you were the one who did it, but since you’ve been blaming me for it anyway, I might as well make amends.”

Reid smiled slightly. “I may have overreacted. I greatly dislike being interrupted, especially when I’m watching Firefly.”

“It happens.”

They fell into a companionable silence, one that Rossi spent focusing very carefully on his food and absolutely not staring at Reid. He thought it might be awkward again when they finished eating, but Reid just helped him clear the table and went to the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later once again wearing that ridiculous hat.

“I should get going, if you don’t mind,” he said. “I have to redo that report, and some reading to catch up on, plus there’s actually getting into my apartment in the first place.”

“Sure,” Rossi said neutrally, not at all sad or disappointed Reid didn’t want to spend the day with him, because of course he didn’t. Just because Rossi had no plans didn’t mean that everyone was so boring, and besides, there wasn’t any reason for Reid of all people to want to hang out. “Let me grab my eyes.”

 _We’ll always have Paris_ , he thought wryly.

 


	3. The dawn of a new galaxy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“So I’m coming over to watch Firefly, right?”_

**The Train Job**

 

“So I’m coming over to watch Firefly, right?”

Rossi nearly walked into the door on the way out of the BAU. “Sorry?”

Reid looked at him, open and honest and curious. “I thought we were going to watch Firefly together, or was that a one time thing? You promised you’d watch the rest of the show, and I talked you into Fridays to make sure you kept your word. I’m sorry, maybe I misunderstood and I wasn’t supposed to join you. Either way, as long as you watch it.”

“I, um.” What had Reid said, exactly? The specific phrasing was suddenly the most important piece of information in the universe and he had no idea what it was. “Yeah, sure. You can come over.”

“Only if you want me to,” Reid replied. “I didn’t mean to force myself. I just assume I’m invited to anything pertaining to Joss Whedon, Firefly in particular. Never mind. Have a good weekend.”

“No, wait.” Rossi grabbed Reid’s arm, then immediately let go at Reid’s look of confusion. “It’s more fun with you there. Presumably, rather, since I haven’t watched it without you. But I appreciate your presence.”

“Do you want me to drive myself?” Reid asked. “I remember where you live.”

“Um.” _You’re a writer, Dave. And a profiler. You know how to talk._ “Whatever’s easier.”

“Well it’s certainly easier to take one car,” Reid said, and Rossi could hear the beginnings of a lecture in his voice. “And more environmentally sound. I don’t want to make you drive me back in the middle of the night though, especially if you’ve been drinking. Or if I’ve been drinking, actually, and you were quite insistent on wine last week.”

“Wine is important,” Rossi said, hesitantly optimistic. “Especially since I’ll be making us dinner.”

“What?” Reid exclaimed. Squawked, more like. “No, you don’t have to do that. We can get takeout. It’s traditional, for nerds to order greasy Chinese food. No high-class home-cooked fine-dining.”

“I’m glad you think so well of my cooking,” Rossi replied, bemused and more than a little flattered. “I’ll need to figure out what wine to pair with greasy Chinese.”

There was a beat of silence. “Am I spending the night, then? If you’re going to insist on drinking?”

Another second of quiet. “No, I have a good tolerance for wine. As long as I don’t have more than a glass or two, especially over a meal, I’m fine. It’s up to you.”

“Personally, I’d feel safer if you didn’t drive after any drinking, let alone a full glass, especially not two,” Reid replied, voice a little quieter than usual. “I can take a cab though, it’s not a big deal.”

“Why waste the money?” Rossi asked, voice a little louder than usual. “You said the guest room was comfortable, right? I’ll take you back to your car in the morning.”

Reid smiled slightly, an odd sort of smile Rossi didn’t recognize. “Yeah, alright.”

They had arrived at Rossi’s car without him realizing, and the beep of the Z4 unlocking echoed through the mostly empty garage. Perks of working at the BAU: lots of late nights doing paperwork.

“Shall we adjourn, then?”

Reid’s smile widened. “Yes indeed.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to publish each episode separately, because then I don't have to wait a million years for me to write something that doesn't show up for ages. That's why the number of chapters got longer (although I may have miscounted, I'm really tired) and this chapter is much shorter. I should be on a daily publishing schedule for at least a little bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my lovely darling beautiful amazing girlfriend because I love her.
> 
> Expect fluff and silliness and, yes, the Rossi/Reid rarepair. Maybe smut later? Not sure yet. Currently rated for language. Quite likely Firefly rants, possibly.
> 
> I really really really hope I have muse to continue this because I really want to and I have all sorts of silly ideas but we'll have to see. Life is complicated and ever-changing.
> 
> All Firefly quotes belong to Joss Whedon and the Firefly people.


End file.
